lirik lagu the beggars of benidorm market - sylvia plath

nightfall, cold eye——neither disheartens
these goatish tragedians who
hawk misfortune like figs and chickens

and, plaintiff against each day, decry
nature’s partial, haphazard thumb
under white wall and moorish window

grief’s honest grimace, debased by time
caricatures itself and thrives
on the coins of pity. at random

a beggar stops among eggs and loaves
props a leg—stump upon a crutch
jiggles his tin cup at the goodwives

by lack and loss these beggars encroach
on spirits tenderer than theirs
suffеring—toughened beyond thе fetch

of finest conscience
nightfall obscures
the bay’s sheer, extravagant blue
white house and almond grove. the beggars

outlast their evilest star, wryly
and with a perfidious verve
baffle the dark, the pitying eye

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